Cowboys Last All Night

by Jennifer Ashley

  When the doctor left, Trace sat heavily on a chair and blew out his breath.

  Stillwater sat next to him. “You’re damned close to this one. Maybe too close?”

  Trace looked at the wall across from them. “Let’s just keep her safe.”

  “But this one’s getting to you more than just protecting a witness.” Stillwater was too damned perceptive.

  He shook his head. “She’s a close friend to Agent Curtis and his wife. I did some protection detail and Christie was in the middle of it because of her ex. I happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

  Stillwater said nothing for a long moment. “All right. You just keep your head on straight. If I think you’re getting too damned close to her, I’m going to pull your ass out of here.”

  Trace said nothing. He’d like to see Stillwater try to keep him from Christie, because that sure as hell wasn’t happening.

  He knew he had to maintain focus and concentrate on keeping her safe. If it was the last thing he did, he’d make sure she got to that trial alive, then back to her new home in Indiana.

  The thought of her heading back to another state so damned far away made him grind his teeth.

  Fuck. What was the matter with him? Everything that had gone down with Salvatore Reyes had traumatized her, and she’d only said a few words to Trace at the wedding. She barely knew him.

  More than anything, he’d like to change that. Maybe after the trial was over and she was safe again, just maybe—

  Ah, hell. He dragged his hand down his face. Nothing was what was going to happen, and he might as well get used to that fact.

  No matter how hard that was going to be.

  Chapter Three

  “Christie is not dead?” Salvatore Reyes gripped the receiver tightly as he clenched his teeth and processed what Paco Esperanza had just told him.

  Paco shook his head. “But your ex-wife is in the hospital.”

  Fire burned Salvatore’s gut as he stared through the window between him and one of his most trusted men. Salvatore spoke in a controlled voice to make sure the prison guards didn’t overhear him. “Tell me exactly why my wife isn’t dead.”

  Christie might have divorced him on paper, but as far as he was concerned, she was still his wife. She was his property. And no piece of paper could say otherwise.

  Paco scowled. “Someone tipped off the Feds. They were waiting, and engaged witness protection protocol. Davies got off a shot but we verified she’s in the hospital now, recovering from the wound.”

  “Fuck.” Salvatore gripped the receiver tighter. “What about Davies?” Ryan Davies was one of the best snipers in the business and had done extensive work for Salvatore.

  “You know him.” Paco snorted. “The man is like a ghost. He was in and out. Vanished before the FBI or any other law enforcement could find him. They even shut down the fucking airport.”

  That Davies was alive and at large was at least good news. Davies was too important to lose. He was the best money could buy and Salvatore needed him.

  Fortunately, Salvatore was a wealthy man with money the Feds knew nothing about. He had a second unknown accountant who disbursed funds from an offshore account to pay Salvatore’s men for what needed to be done.

  The accountant was a distant cousin who lived in Mexico, a man Salvatore trusted implicitly. When Salvatore was out of prison, he would richly reward his cousin. Salvatore had more than enough money to move to Mexico and live the good life. He would take his place in the Jimenez Cartel and continue what he was good at, just in another country. He had a knack for laundering money. He would never have been caught if it hadn’t been for the fucking Circle of Seven, his wife’s circle of friends.

  Paco’s gaze remained steady. “What do you want us to do now?”

  “What the fuck do you think?” Salvatore growled the words. “Figure it out—that’s what I pay you for. Make sure she gets what she deserves and that she never has the opportunity to testify.”

  Paco gave a nod. “I will make sure it happens.”

  Salvatore gave a nod. “I know you will.” Paco wouldn’t let him down.

  “Time to go, Reyes.” One of the prison guards caught Salvatore’s attention and gestured to the door.

  “I want to know it’s done the next time you’re in here.” Salvatore threw out the words in a low voice to Paco.

  The guard put his hand on Salvatore’s shoulder. “Now, Reyes.”

  Salvatore wanted to shove the guard’s hand away. Hell, he would fucking love to break the bastard’s neck.

  Instead of shrugging away from the guard, Salvatore controlled himself, hung up the receiver, and got to his feet.

  The chain cuffed to his ankles made a jangling sound as he shuffled toward the door that would lead away from visitation. He hated the orange jumpsuit he was forced to wear and scowled as the thought of the TV show Orange is the New Black. Fuck that shit.

  And fuck Christie.

  As Salvatore was taken down the hallway that would lead back to his cell, he thought about how perfectly everything had been progressing. One of the cartel’s computer experts had hacked Christie’s Gmail account. The dumb bitch hadn’t changed her email address.

  When the hacker got into her email, he had discovered the airline confirmations. From that, Salvatore’s men had everything—the airline, the city she was flying into, the flight number, and time of arrival.

  They’d learned she was in Indiana, but not exactly where. A single email from Christie’s cousin, Natasha, who had begged Christie to at least let the FBI know she was going back to Bisbee for a visit with Belle and Dylan, had given Salvatore the perfect plan.

  Salvatore had decided he’d let Christie come to him. She would fly into Tucson and he would have her taken out when she arrived.

  But his men had royally fucked that up. Now they’d have to find other ways to kill her and it had to be done right away. The trial would be starting soon and Salvatore would be transported to Phoenix. Christie was the last person scheduled to testify, and it was her testimony that would be the most damning. It was her testimony that could put him away for the rest of his life.

  She would never make it.

  Salvatore was too smart and the new head of the cartel was too powerful. As long as Christie never lived to testify, Salvatore would be in El Verdugo, the Executioner’s, good graces. El Verdugo was Salvatore’s distant cousin and had turned over some of his resources to Salvatore.

  However, if Christie did somehow testify, El Verdugo would no doubt have Salvatore killed so that he wouldn’t have the opportunity to double cross the cartel and turn state’s evidence.

  Salvatore had made it clear that he would never do such a thing, but the head of the cartel only trusted so far, even though Salvatore was a relation.

  The guard shoved the cell door closed behind Salvatore after he walked in.

  Ignoring the asshole on the bottom bunk, Salvatore climbed onto the upper bunk and flopped on it. He put one palm behind his head and stared up at the stained ceiling, wishing for a snort of cocaine.

  He also wished he’d been able to take care of Christie. If only he’d snapped her neck sooner than he’d planned and had gotten rid of the body so that it would never be found. If only he hadn’t kept her around to fuck and humiliate.

  He put his arm over his face and closed his eyes. Instead of brooding over past mistakes, he could make sure his plans were carried out. And that was exactly what he was going to do.

  Chapter Four

  Everything since arriving at the airport to ending up in the hospital had blurred together in Christie’s mind. She could barely grasp anything that had happened after she’d been shot until well after she’d come out of surgery. Attempting to remember all that had happened was like trying to grab tendrils of smoke.

  Mostly she remembered Trace talking to her in his rich Texan drawl after she was shot, and how his words pulled her from the darkness, saving her from a deep abyss.

 
; She sat on the edge of the hospital bed, dressed in her own clothing—jeans and a nice pink shirt, along with socks and athletic shoes—as she waited to be released. Two days had passed, and despite the wound and the sling she was wearing, she felt better and ready to get out of the hospital. It had been more or less a flesh wound, but because it had clipped an artery, they wanted to make sure she was well rested.

  Brooks, the DHS agent who had helped Dylan and Trace take down Salvatore’s men, had suffered an injury protecting Christie at the airport. From what she understood, Brooks had been shot in the shoulder, but she’d been assured it wasn’t serious.

  One FBI agent was in critical condition, however, and her stomach ached at the thought. Another FBI agent had been injured, but thank God, would be fine. She prayed that the agent in critical condition would make it.

  Her cell phone nearly slid off her lap, and she caught it just in time. She unlocked the screen before pulling up the video app and opening the video that Dylan and Belle had sent yesterday when the baby had been induced. Christie had watched the video three times already. She couldn’t get enough of seeing her friends so happy.

  First was Belle, smiling and holding their son. “Hi, Christie.” Belle rocked the baby in her arms. “We wish you could have been here for Shane’s birth, but Dylan and I are both grateful you’re all right. When this is all over, you need to come stay with the three of us for a while.”

  Christie smiled and brushed a tear from her face. It was a tear reflecting her happiness for her friends.

  The tear that followed was for what Salvatore had done to her and what he was trying to do. The second tear she scrubbed away, angry with herself for allowing thoughts of that bastard into her head.

  She continued to watch the video, a smile returning to her lips as Dylan took the baby from Belle and cradled him. The phone camera stayed on Dylan, who wore the biggest proud papa grin she’d ever seen.

  Both Dylan and Belle had been two of Christie’s best friends since elementary school. The pair had dated in high school and had been deeply in love before Belle disappeared, having run away from home and a horrid situation.

  All these years later, and Dylan and Belle were finally back together…and now they were a family of three.

  When the video was over, Christie looked up to see Trace watching her. He had one shoulder hitched up against a wall, his thumbs hooked in his pockets.

  Every other thought in her mind fled as she imagined touching all that muscle his overshirt didn’t completely hide. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his shirt was just snug enough to show his powerful biceps. Where his overshirt fell open, a snug blue T-shirt was visible that hugged an incredible chest. His Wranglers were an oh-my-God perfect fit on him.

  She wanted to run her thumb over the cleft in his chin and touch his lips with her fingertips. His stubble would feel rough beneath her palms as she moved them over his angular jaw. His eyes were such a smoky gray, but they seemed to darken as she took him in.

  Her throat worked as he held her gaze. She should probably be embarrassed for so blatantly looking him over, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t sure why it didn’t bother her.

  She realized he’d just done the same thing to her. Instead of feeling shy, she enjoyed it. She felt somehow stronger, a woman who was being appreciated by a good man. At least if she was reading him right, he liked what he saw.

  “How are you doing?” He broke the silence in his slow, easy drawl.

  She’d noticed it was slow when he was being conversational. But in a tough situation, he was hard and vocal, shouting out orders to people as needed. When he’d helped Dylan take down Salvatore, Trace made it clear to Salvatore’s men that he wasn’t messing around. Trace intended to shoot to kill. Christie knew that Salvatore was lucky to be alive.

  “I’m much better.” She looked down at her arm that was bandaged and in the sling. “I shouldn’t have to wear this for long. Dr. Tenor doesn’t want me to overdo it.”

  “I’ll make sure you behave.” Trace gave an easy smile.

  It was a lady killer smile that made her sigh. Oh, she wouldn’t mind at all if he made her behave. She imagined herself being naughty just so he’d make her be a good girl.

  This time she did feel a little heat in her face at the direction of her thoughts. She pushed that away. She didn’t have to feel embarrassed. She was a different person now. She was strong and independent.

  She hoped it wouldn’t be much longer before she’d have a sexual relationship with a man that might wipe out her memories of Salvatore. Especially what he’d done to her at the last. She didn’t want to sleep around, but she was a red-blooded American woman, and she deserved to enjoy life to its fullest.

  Dang, but Trace was hot. She wouldn’t mind at all if she ended up in his bed.

  “Promise you’ll make me behave?” she said before she could stop herself.

  He grinned. “You’d better believe it.”

  She couldn’t help but grin back. He had such an easy-going way about him when he was in Super Agent mode. She imagined his muscled body in tights with a cape, and a laugh escaped her.

  With an amused expression, Trace sat next to her on the bed. His body brushed hers and she felt an incredible heat between them that made warmth flow through her body.

  He gestured to her phone. “Mind if I see the video again?”

  She handed it to him as she smiled. “I love seeing how happy they are and seeing that precious baby.”

  Trace started the video and she watched his face. He smiled as he watched it. When he finished he handed her the phone. “Dylan is lucky to have gotten Belle back, and now have a growing family. Shane is a beautiful baby.”

  Christie saw the fondness in Trace’s expression for Dylan and Belle, and a softness within him for the baby. She also saw something more. Like he desired a family of his own.

  The thought of Trace as a daddy sent more warmth through her. She could just see him holding a son or daughter.

  After a moment of silence, Trace put his hand over hers. She felt like she was suddenly on fire from the contact.

  “The Feds want to take you straight to Phoenix.” Trace’s voice was a little lower now, as if not wanting to be overheard. “I know you’ve been asking for an alternative to being surrounded by agents and still remain safe. I have a remote cabin up on Mt. Lemmon that I can take you to. Only Dylan and Brooks know about it and it’ll be secure. It’s not easy to find or get to, and it’s where I like to escape when I need to get away.” He moved his hand from hers and rested his forearms on his thighs. “You would have to put up with me, though.”

  “Stay in a cabin with you?” She looked at him, surprised. “Alone?”

  “It would only be a couple of days since the trial is coming up soon.” His smile was just too damned sexy. “I promise to be a good boy.”

  But I might not be a good girl.

  “I’m not worried about that.” She returned his smile. No, you should be the one who’s worried—about me.

  Jeez. Where are these thoughts coming from?

  She knew perfectly well where they were coming from. She had the hots for this man, and spending some time alone with him sounded like just what the doctor ordered.

  “I’d like that.” She nodded. “I feel suffocated with all of the agents hanging around. I know they’re doing their jobs and you all saved my life…but it’s hard. I was under Salvatore’s thumb for so long that I just need some freedom.”

  “When this is over, you’ll have all the freedom you want.” His gaze held hers. “We just need to keep you safe long enough for that to happen.”

  She knew he was thinking alive long enough…she could end up dead if she wasn’t careful, and if she didn’t let someone help her.

  “It’s a good compromise.” She felt a twinge in her arm. The pain meds were wearing off. “Will Agent Stillwater give you grief?”

  Trace shifted in his chair. “I imagine she will. But ultimately, the choice i
s up to you.”

  Christie felt a little lighter than she had over the past couple of days. “I’ll take a cabin in the woods over being surrounded by agents in a stuffy hotel room any day.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I had a feeling you’d like the cabin option.”

  A light knock came at the door and it was pushed open by Dr. Tenor. He came into the room, carrying the thin laptop he used to take notes.

  Trace got up and moved to a chair near the bed so the doctor could talk with Christie.

  Dr. Tenor walked toward her and stopped a couple of feet from her. “How are you feeling, Christie?”

  “Much better.” She looked at her arm. “I’m ready to get out of here.”

  The doctor asked her a few more questions and examined her arm. She bit back a small cry from the pain, but the doctor noticed her wince.

  “I’ll have the nurse give you more pain meds before you leave.” He made a couple of notes on his small laptop. “I’m also writing a prescription for something to help ease the discomfort.”

  She thanked him after he finished and he told her the nurses would be in shortly to have her sign her release papers.

  When the doctor was gone, she met Trace’s gaze. “Do we have to do more of that super agent stuff to get me to your vehicle?”

  He nodded. “The FBI has agents all over the area outside the hospital, making sure it’s clear of anyone who would do you harm. But you never know if something has been missed.”

  “Okay.” She let out a sigh. “I suppose you’ll do all of those procedures like in movies and books where you make sure you’re not tailed and we get to our destination free and clear of bad guys.”

  “You’ve got it.” He grinned. “We’ll take a tour of Tucson until we’re sure we don’t have anyone following us. And then a little more just to make doubly sure.” His grin faded as his look turned more serious. “I doubt it would occur to them that we could go to Mt. Lemmon, much less stay in Tucson. They’ll probably expect us to go to Phoenix.”

  None of it seemed real, despite the throbbing in her arm and the man sitting here telling her that he would take care of her and keep her from getting killed.